All He Needs to Know
by Bella Lumina
Summary: Derek discovers a secret.


"All He Needs to Know"

Author: Bella Lumina

Rating: NC-17 (M)

Fandom/Pairing: Grey's Anatomy, D/M

Distribution: Ask please.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Note: Thanks to Aire, Cath, and Austin for the fabulous beta-ing!

Summary: Derek discovers a secret.

The hospital halls were quiet and dim, with the gentle hum of life-saving machines providing quiet background noise. Derek headed past the nurses' desk, giving a quick nod to the sleepy-eyed young man filing records behind the counter, and turned a corner. He balanced a cup of hot soup on the stack of charts he was carrying from his just-completed rounds.

Meredith had asked him to bring down the soup, told him that Cristina had been complaining about the hospital food. Apparently a cranky Dr. Yang was not a cooperative patient, and she'd asked him to stop in because she'd been asked to scrub in on a surgery with Bailey and Webber. Something deep inside him had swelled up with pride when she'd pulled him aside to ask for the favor – this was the kind of thing that a boyfriend did for his girlfriend, after all.

He found the correct room number and peered in the wire-crossed window in the door before knocking. He almost fumbled the soup in surprise at what he saw; Cristina was lying in her hospital bed, but she wasn't alone. Dr. Burke sat beside her, close to the bed, with one hand resting familiarly on her knee. They were speaking softly, and he seemed to be trying to get her to say something, but she wasn't meeting his eyes. Burke's expression was serious, almost pained, but hers was steely and unemotional as usual.

Derek stepped back and blinked. He steadied the cup of soup on the charts. Cristina hadn't named a father when they'd discovered she needed to have surgery. No man had come in to visit her, or at least Meredith hadn't mentioned anyone. Meredith definitely hadn't mentioned this as a possibility, but it occurred to him that perhaps she didn't know.

He chastised himself for judging them for their actions – after all, what were they doing that he hadn't done with Meredith? Apparently rules were being broken by more than one attending/intern pair at Seattle Grace. But then, what did he know? Maybe it hadn't been Burke's baby, and maybe this was all just something that looked totally different from what it really was.

Soup, he thought. Time to finish her errand. He stepped toward the door and knocked twice with purpose, hoping he could give them enough time to regroup before he walked in. Sure enough, when he opened the door, Burke was sitting back in the chair with his arms folded over his chest casually, and Cristina was looking up placidly as if nothing had been happening.

"Dr. Yang, how are you feeling?" he asked with a smile.

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, I just had invasive abdominal surgery, but other than that, just peachy," she replied tartly.

"That's great," he said hesitantly. "Listen, Dr. Grey asked me to bring this to you because I was doing rounds on this part of the floor. I think it's some sort of non-hospital-sanctioned food," he said conspiratorially.

"Oh, did she?" Cristina asked with a tone of amusement creeping into her voice. "Did Bailey finally kill her with extra work? Why else wouldn't she bring it herself?"

"She's scrubbing in on open heart surgery," he replied. "She didn't want it to get cold in the mean time, I guess."

"That's kind of her," she answered. "Open heart surgery, huh? Lucky jerk."

"I'll pass on that message if I see her before you do," he offered, and Cristina gave him a sarcastic smirk in return. "I'm checking out of here for the night, but I do hope you're feeling better. We miss having you around."

Her face softened just a little. "Thanks, Dr. Shepherd," she replied.

He nodded, and then threw a quick "Dr. Burke" in Burke's direction. His fellow attending gave a quick nod of recognition, and on that note, Derek hurried out the door.

On the way back to the locker room, he nearly collided with Meredith in the hallway. "What are you doing out here?" he asked. "I thought you were supposed to be in the OR."

She grimaced. "There were complications. He died on the table. Bailey's in a foul mood, so look straight ahead and keep walking if you see her."

"What happened? I thought that guy was in fairly good shape," he answered, hugging the charts to his chest.

"I'm not really sure," she said. "I was just standing there retracting, like a good little intern, and suddenly he was in defib. Webber thinks maybe it was a stroke, but I guess they're going to do an autopsy." She sighed. "I've got to go find Bailey. She thinks I should tell the family."

"Hoops, huh?"

"Oh, all kinds of pretty little hoops," she replied.

"I hope I'm worth it," he said, a little more seriously than he had intended.

She kept her tone light. "Oh, so far. Did you see Cristina?"

"Yeah, she's still being an awful patient, as expected," he said. "She called you a jerk for getting to scrub in on the surgery. Hey, are you on call tonight?"

"I'm supposed to be off at seven, unless Bailey has some extra grunt work for me," she answered, brushing a piece of hair out of her face.

"Why don't you come by after you get finished here?" he proposed in a low voice.

"I don't know," she replied. "I'm pretty exhausted."

"Oh, come on," he prodded. "I just want to fall asleep next to my girlfriend, is that a crime?"

She flushed slightly before answering, "Maybe in some states, I'd have to check."

"Come on," he murmured, giving her a lopsided grin.

"Only if you can promise me food," she said with a resigned sigh.

He nodded. "Deal."

"Okay, I'll see you later then," she promised as she headed off toward the OR.

He watched her walk away, then dropped off his charts and turned toward the locker rooms. Burke's name was staring at him in big capital letters from two lockers away as he pulled his scrubs over his head and tossed them in his bag. The image of Burke sitting beside Cristina's bed flashed in his mind as he buttoned up his shirt and pulled a sweater over his head. The two of them seemed too intimate to be anything less than lovers, he thought. His hand on her knee, her unwillingness to look at his face when he spoke … he had to have been that baby's father.

Was it just sex? Was she using him to get ahead of the other interns? Derek thought back to the past months, and he did remember quite a few instances when Cristina had scrubbed in on Burke's surgeries. It wasn't that she didn't deserve the opportunities, but she had definitely had more of them than some of the others. He thought of Burke's outrage when he learned that Webber was considering Derek for the coveted chief's spot. Both of them were opportunists, but what could Burke possibly be getting out of it?

His mind was full of the new revelation as he drove to the market and picked up some groceries. He'd make his mother's lasagna, he decided. She'd be impressed by that. Could it be more than sex between Burke and Cristina? Feelings definitely complicated things. The way he felt about Meredith was one of the major ways he was able to reconcile their relationship to himself. It wasn't just sex, there were actual feelings involved; and besides, neither of them was gaining anything career-wise from the relationship, so it was okay. He parked the car and unlocked the door to the trailer, dumping his keys on the counter and heading back out to retrieve the groceries.

Comparisons between Burke and Cristina's possible relationship and his and Meredith's definitely real one automatically led him to a consideration of what it would be like if they were in the same situation. As he layered long noodles and meaty pasta sauce into a baking pan, he let himself imagine that scenario. He and Meredith had both been on call when Cristina had collapsed in the locker room, and he could remember the terror in Meredith's eyes as easily as if he were still in the actual moment. Imagining how he would have felt had she been the one curled on the floor instead of Cristina made him pause. Would he have been able to come to her aid as more than a fellow physician? Most of the hospital staff that worked closely with them already knew, but helping her in that moment would have alerted everyone to their relationship. Would he be able to detach himself and help her as a doctor, knowing that she was likely miscarrying his child?

He was setting the small excuse for a dining table with plates and napkins when he heard her soft knock at the door. She looked exhausted when he let her in, and she immediately looped her arms about his middle and pressed her face to his shoulder. "You going to be able to stay awake long enough to eat?" he asked, kissing the top of her head and rubbing slow circles on her back.

"It depends. When does the delivery guy get here?" she asked, shrugging out of her coat and dropping her bag by the front door.

"Ha," he said. "No delivery tonight."

Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Did you pick something up?"

"I cooked for you," he corrected, indicating the table. "Lasagna's in the oven."

Her mouth dropped open slightly. "You made a lasagna for me?"

"And a salad, and I found a bottle of wine that looked promising," he added.

"You're just full of surprises, do you know that?" she said. "I can't believe you cooked."

He shrugged. "My mother considered it a necessary life skill for me to have."

"This smells delicious," she said with a dreamy smile, sitting down at the table and folding a napkin on her lap. He dished a portion of food onto her plate, and she attacked it almost immediately. They ate quickly, with only a few brief words tossed between them. He rested his chin on his fist, watching with a smile as she polished off the last bit on her plate and sat back with a contented sigh.

"What time do you have to go in tomorrow?" he asked as he stood to take his dishes to the sink.

She wiped her mouth with her napkin. "I don't, thank God."

"Mmm, good," he said.

She smiled and stood, walking slowly toward the kitchen. "Why's that, Dr. Shepherd?" She swirled the little bit of wine in her glass.

He shrugged. "Well … I had a few ideas for you this evening."

"Like?" she finished off the wine and set the glass on the counter, leaning against the cabinets.

"Hm," he said, crossing the kitchen and placing his palms flat on the counter on either side of her. "I thought someone was tired."

"Second wind," she murmured, stretching to place a soft kiss on the underside of his jaw.

"That's my girl," he whispered. He leaned forward and captured her lips with his, the kiss long and passionate. When she pulled away, she caught her bottom lip in her teeth and reached toward his belt, inching up the hem of his sweater. He kept his hands at her elbows, his thumbs stroking her arms, and nipped at her earlobe with his teeth. As he reached down to help her, pulling the sweater over his head, she slid her hands underneath his button-down and kneaded the muscles of his back.

"Come on," she said softly, taking his hand and leading him to the bed. She pulled her shirt over her head as he followed her, exposing the soft planes of her bare back. She glanced over her shoulder and deliberately lifted an eyebrow as she reached back and unhooked her bra. The straps slid down over her shoulders as the garment dropped to the floor. The skin of her stomach was warm as he slid his hands across it, wrapping his arms around her, her back against his chest. She shivered.

"I thought about you all day," she whispered, turning around in his arms and kissing him slowly on the mouth. He rested his forehead against hers when they pulled apart. She worked at the buttons on his shirt, and she gasped when his hands came up to stroke the sides of her breasts. "I thought about last night, and the night before that…"

"Ah, the night before that was a good one," he replied, smiling at her low, lilting moan when he rolled a nipple between his index finger and thumb. She unbuttoned his shirt quickly, then grabbed the waistband of his pants and pulled him down on top of her on the bed. Her fingers wound in his hair as he pulled a nipple into his mouth and sucked. She began to writhe impatiently, making small noises of pleasure and wanting from the back of her throat. "Patience, grasshopper," he growled, and she sighed.

"Don't want to have patience," she replied, sitting up and unfastening his belt and pants. Their fingers tangled as he tried to help her. "Come on, baby," she hissed, unbuttoning her jeans.

He pushed her back on the bed with a firm palm against her stomach. He sat back on his heels and shrugged off his shirt, then dragged down the zipper of her jeans. His lips brushed her hipbone as he pushed the fabric down her legs. She breathed in sharply as his tongue traced the edge of her underwear, and her hands reached up to bury in his thick, dark hair. "Derek," she murmured.

"Hm?" he asked as he gently rubbed at her clit through the soft cotton of her underwear.

She closed her eyes and bit at her bottom lip as he peeled her underwear off and ran his tongue along the crease of her inner thigh. "I just – thank you for dinner," she breathed.

He laughed quietly as he rested his cheek against the soft skin on the inside of her thigh. "My pleasure," he said with a slow, crooked smile. He dropped a gentle kiss on her thigh before moving to work at her clit with lips, tongue, and a graze of his teeth. Her skin flushed pink as she stroked his hair with one hand and gripped the bed sheet with the other.

She arched her back, groaning as he pulled away to kick off his pants and boxers. He stood at the edge of the bed and looked down at her, lying naked on his bed, watching him wantonly under heavy-lidded eyes, and he felt something stir inside him. She raised herself up on her elbows and reached out a hand for him, making a soft, low noise deep in her throat as he crawled on top of her and pressed himself against her. "Now," she whispered, kissing him deeply as he rummaged in the night table for a condom.

"Mmm," he murmured as he slid inside her. He caught her lips as he thrust in and out, feeling a tingling in his spine and a burning heat in his belly. She arched again, and the way that her nipples brushed against his chest made the heat spreading all over his body spike for a second.

"Oh," she breathed, bringing her legs up to wrap high around his waist. The angle changed and forced him in deeper, and he felt a slick sheen of sweat forming on his back. He took a deep breath, trying to focus so that it wasn't over too soon.

He looked down on her, panting as she rose to meet his thrusts, eyes fluttering closed and pink tongue darting out to wet her lower lip. "Meredith," he muttered, leaning down to kiss her hard. She responded enthusiastically, and he felt a little relieved to know that she was as caught up as he was. He moved to flick one of her erect nipples with the tip of his tongue, and when she responded with a long, impatient moan, he began to suckle with abandon.

He pulled away and sucked air through his clenched teeth when he felt himself tightening and tipping toward the edge. "Are you close?" he asked desperately. He felt her reach between them, fingers questing for her clit, and he groaned, replacing her fingers with his own. His thrusts grew slower as he pressed, watching her bite her lip and grip his biceps. She made a loud gasping noise and moaned as she came, shuddering and shaking beneath him.

He planted both hands on the bed again and began to thrust harder. His teeth clenched, and a muscle began to work in his jaw as he felt himself right there. As he squeezed his eyes shut tight, she reached up and smoothed a hand across his cheek, and that was enough to send him over, gasping and sighing and collapsing against her.

"God," he breathed, rolling onto his back and throwing an arm across his face. "God."

"I know," she whispered, resting on her side and propping her head up on her hand. She stroked his arm, laced her fingers through his. He squeezed her fingers and rolled out of bed, padding to the bathroom in his bare feet.

When he slid back under the covers, she moved toward him, automatically finding a comfortable position as she tucked herself against his side. Her eyes were sleepy as she nudged his cheek with her nose and found his lips with hers. They kissed, soft and languid, until sleep overtook them. She whispered good night, and he smiled against her lips in response. That same something filled him again – was it pride? Or could it be the stirrings of more important feelings? Whatever it was, he thought, this was more than just sex, and they both knew it. This, this right here, the quiet moments when he just wanted her beside him, _this_ was why it was okay for them to be together.

Later that night, as she slept soundly beside him, his mind was still working through how their relationship compared with his impression of Burke and Cristina. Meredith sighed softly in her sleep and curled closer to him. He stroked her hair gently. Did the two of them spend their nights together after they were finished with their shifts? Or was it just illicit meetings in back rooms at Grace? Did he watch her sleep when he woke in the middle of the night, like he watched Meredith when he was dealing with one of his famous bouts of insomnia?

He can't imagine what it would feel like to see Meredith fall to the floor like Cristina had, to watch her clutch at her abdomen with tears leaking slowly from the corners of her eyes from the pain. He wondered if Burke had known about the baby before Cristina had collapsed, but as he thought back to that day, when he and Meredith had carried Cristina to a stretcher and rushed her to a room, he remembered that Burke had looked as shocked as the rest of them when they realized that she was pregnant.

He closed his eyes and let his mind wander. Images and scenes passed through his mind, the kinds of things he hadn't let himself think about until now. He saw himself carrying Meredith frantically down the hallway, the way they had carried Cristina, with her little fists gripping the neck of his scrubs. Of course, unlike Burke he would have known what was happening, because he would have awakened in the middle of the night in her bed a month before and heard soft sobs coming from the bathroom. She would have held out the little plastic stick without looking him in the eye, and would have let him pull her into his lap and whisper soft words of comfort in her ear. It was all going to be okay, he would have murmured, because there was something between them, and he was going to take care of her.

The image of her curling up in pain the way Cristina had was too much – he didn't want to imagine having to sit in the gallery as Webber and Bailey cut her open on the operating table they way they had Cristina. He suddenly thought about the fact that Burke had skipped the operation as well, disappearing when the decisions were being made about the surgery. He would have done the same, he thinks, although enough people already knew about his relationship with Meredith that he probably would have been purposely kept away.

What if Cristina hadn't lost the baby? He wondered if she would have terminated the pregnancy, because she doesn't exactly strike him as the maternal type. Would Meredith want to keep a baby if she found out she was pregnant? If he was honest with himself, he would admit that he'd wanted to have a child for years now. Addison hadn't exactly been excited about the prospect of having her life disrupted by children, and if Meredith got pregnant, she would face having to lose precious time at the beginning of her career.

Would a child of theirs have her soft, beautiful eyes and his curly hair, or green eyes like his mother's and reddish-brown hair? What would Meredith look like with a softly rounded belly, standing before the mirror in her bedroom, inspecting her changing body? He saw himself sitting beside her in a hospital room, a familiar place but so different this time, probably still in his scrubs, called out of surgery to see the birth of his first child. He saw her face, flushed dark as she strained and groaned through labor. He saw his fingers brushing the sweaty hair off her forehead as she gripped his hand against the pain. It would be fairly quick – fitting nicely in his schedule, because surely he was going to be called off somewhere right away for surgery or consultation, and if this was a fantasy, hell, why draw things out? A few strong pushes and the sound of a harsh cry would fill the room. He would watch the relief wash over her face as she lay back against the bed, and he could almost feel his heart start to beat faster and faster as he imagined one of the nurses handing him the baby, tightly wrapped in a blanket.

Meredith's drowsy voice brought him back to reality. "Can't sleep?" she asked, rubbing circles on his back.

"Hm," he said. "Not really."

"This insomnia thing is really crazy," she murmured, smiling as he kissed the soft skin under her jaw.

Her fingers wove into the curls at the nape of his neck, and he made a happy noise. "Hey," he began.

"Hey yourself," she replied, leaning in for a sleepy kiss.

When they broke, he frowned. "Do you know who the father of Cristina's baby was?" he asked.

She gave him a puzzled look. "Where's this coming from?"

"I was just thinking. When I went to give her the soup, she wasn't alone."

"Well, are you going to tell me who was with her?" she asked. The sheet pulled away from her breasts slightly as she sat up against the pillows.

He looked up at her. "Dr. Burke."

She frowned. "Derek, come on, that doesn't mean anything. Just because we're together doesn't mean that everyone else is screwing around, too."

"Screwing around," he said. "Nice."

"I didn't mean – God, Derek, seriously," she said, standing and wrapping one of the blankets from the bed tightly around her.

"Meredith, come on, stop it. Come back to bed," he said, throwing back the covers and following her into the kitchen. She sat on the couch and pulled the blanket tighter. He crossed his arms over his chest. "We're just screwing around?"

"Derek," she began, rubbing at her face.

"We sleep together every night, we work together every day," he said. "You know more about me than anyone else here. We were making rules, and now we're just screwing?"

"We were making rules before your wife showed up," she replied bitterly, leveling him with a sharp glare. "I think anything that happened before then kind of flew out the window."

He glared. "Meredith, we've been over this a hundred times—"

"I know, I know. She's a horrible person, and you don't love her, and you're getting a divorce," she said. "Fine. But I'm still having trouble putting faith in this relationship when you lied about it for so long."

"Look at me," he said in a low voice. He knelt in front of her and touched her face. "I didn't tell you about Addison, but I wasn't lying about anything I said to you. Anything."

She was silent. He leaned in and kissed her softly. "This isn't just sex for me, and you know it. I hope it's not for you, either."

"I don't … you know it's not," she replied quietly. "I'm sorry. I mean, I just can't – I just can't say anything about the way I feel yet. Your divorce isn't even final, Derek."

"I know," he said. "I just need you to know. That's all I need."

They were quiet for a moment, before she murmured, "Cristina and Burke."

"I've just been sitting here thinking about how I would react if you'd been in Cristina's situation," he said softly.

"Yeah?" she asked, and he nodded. "And what was your conclusion?"

He shrugged. "They'd probably have to throw me out of the hospital."

She grinned. "The laid-back doctor snaps?"

"Something like that. Probably."

"You called me your girlfriend earlier tonight."

"I thought it was the time to start saying it," he answered, "as long as that's okay with you."

"I'm not objecting," she replied.

She kissed him, and he walked her back to the bedroom. Whatever happened, whatever changed and whatever stayed the same, everything was going to be fine. "Come back to bed, baby," he whispered, falling back on the bed and gathering her on top of him.

As he lost himself in her again, feeling her warm flesh yield against his, he reasoned that it didn't matter what the others thought. This was something more important than an office affair. Cristina and Burke might be using each other, but honestly he didn't care. It wasn't that way with Meredith.

The sun washed the inside of the trailer with pale light the next morning. He woke slowly, rolling to look at her, sprawled on the other side of the bed. He reached out and ran his fingertips over the bumps of her spine, and she stirred. She giggled as he stroked the ticklish skin on her side. He grinned.

"What should we do today?" he asked, his cheek pressed into his pillow.

She reached up and smoothed down his wild morning hair. "Well, I had this great dream where a hunky neurosurgeon made me breakfast in bed and catered to my every need…" she said with a grin.

"Insatiable woman," he replied, sitting up and shaking his head. "A lasagna wasn't enough?"

She laughed and draped an arm across his middle. "Who said you were the hunky neurosurgeon?"

It was his turn to laugh as he launched a full-on tickle assault. They tangled in the sheets, gasping for breath, his grin threatening to split his cheeks. He had the idea that this was the way he wanted to spend his days off for quite a long time. Mornings together mattered, days off when they could spend their time together, not stolen moments in hospital closets and secret relationships. More and more, he realized that he wanted to be with her, all of the time, and she didn't seem too averse to that idea either. That really was all he needed to know.

THE END


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